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kill that red stallion。 And some one shook him hard。 Some one's incisive words
cut into his thick； throbbing ears： 〃Luck of the game！ The King ain't beat！
He's only out！〃
Then the rider's habit of mind asserted itself and Bostil began to recover。
For the King to fall was hard luck。 But he had not lost the race！ Anguish and
pride battled for mastery over him。 Even if the King were out it was a Bostil
who would win the great race。
〃He ain't beat！〃 muttered Bostil。 〃It ain't fair！ He's run off the track by a
wild stallion！〃
His dimmed sight grew clear and sharp。 And with a gasp he saw the moving； dark
line take shape as horses。 A bright horse was in the lead。 Brighter and larger
he grew。 Swiftly and more swiftly he came on。 The bright color changed to red。
Bostil heard Holley calling and Cordts callingand other voices； but he did
not distinguish what was said。 The line of horses began to bob； to bunch。 The
race looked close； despite what Holley had said。 The Indians were beginning to
lean forward； here and there uttering a short； sharp yell。 Everything within
Bostil grew together in one great； throbbing； tingling mass。 His rider's eye；
keen once more； caught a gleam of gold above the red； and that gold was Lucy's
hair。 Bostil forgot the King。
Then Holley bawled into his ear； 〃They're half…way！〃
The race was beautiful。 Bostil strained his eyes。 He gloried in what he
sawLucy low over the neck of that red stallion。 He could see plainer now。
They were coming closer。 How swiftly！ What a splendid race！ But it was too
swiftit would not last。 The Indians began to yell； drowning the hoarse
shouts of the riders。 Out of the tail of his eye Bostil saw Cordts and Sears
and Hutchinson。 They were acting like crazy men。 Strange that horse…thieves
should care！ The million thrills within Bostil coalesced into one great
shudder of rapture。 He grew wet with sweat。 His stentorian voice took up the
call for Lucy to win。
〃Three…quarters！〃 bowled Holley into Bostil's ear。 〃An' Lucy's give thet wild
hoss free rein！ Look； Bostil！ You never in your life seen a hoss ran like
thet！〃
Bostil never had。 His heart swelled。 Something shook him。 Was that his
girlthat tight little gray burr half hidden in the huge stallion's flaming
mane？ The distance had been close between Lucy and the bunched riders。
But it lengthened。 How it widened！ That flame of a horse was running away from
the others。 And now they were closecoming into the home stretch。 A deafening
roar from the onlookers engulfed all other sounds。 A straining； stamping；
arm…flinging horde surrounded Bostil。
Bostil saw Lucy's golden hair whipping out from the flame…streaked mane。 And
then he could only see that red brute of a horse。 Wildfire before the wind！
Bostil thought of the leaping prairie flame； storm…driven。
On came the red stalliononon！ What a tremendous stride！ What a marvelous
recovery！ What ease！ What savage action！
He flashed past； low； pointed； long； going faster every magnificent
stridewinner by a dozen lengths。
CHAPTER XIII
Wildfire ran on down the valley far beyond the yelling crowd lined along the
slope。 Bostil was deaf to the throng； he watched the stallion till Lucy forced
him to stop and turn。
Then Bostil whirled to see where Van was with the King。 Most of the crowd
surged down to surround the racers； and the yells gave way to the buzz of many
voices。 Some of the ranchers and riders remained near Bostil； all apparently
talking at once。 Bostil gathered that Holley's Whitefoot had ran second； and
the Navajo's mustang third。 It was Holley himself who verified what Bostil had
heard。 The old rider's hawk eyes were warm with delight。
〃Boss； he run second！〃 Holley kept repeating。
Bostil had the heart to shake hands with Holley and say he was glad； when it
was on his lips to blurt out there had been no race。 Then Bostil's nerves
tingled at sight of Van trotting the King up the course toward the slope。
Bostil watched with searching eyes。 Sage King did not appear to be injured。
Van rode straight up the slope and leaped off。 He was white and shaking。
The King's glossy hide was dirty with dust and bits of cactus and brush。 He
was not even hot。 There did not appear to be a bruise or mark on him。 He
whinnied and rubbed his face against Bostil； and then； flinching； he swept up
his head； ears high。 Both fear and fire shone in his eyes。
〃Wal； Van； get it out of your system；〃 said Bostil； kindly。 He was a harder
loser before a race was run than after he had lost it。
〃Thet red hoss run in on the King before the start an' scared the race out of
him；〃 replied Van； swiftly。 〃We had a hunch； you know； but at thet Lucy's hoss
was a surprise。 I'll say； sir； thet Lucy rode her wild hoss an' handled him。
Twice she pulled him off the King。 He meant to kill the King！ 。 。 。 Ask any of
the boys。 。 。 。 We got started。 I took the lead； sir。 The King was in the
lead。 I never looked back till I heard Lucy scream。 She couldn't pull
Wildfire。 He was rushin' the Kingmeant to kill him。 An' Sage King wanted to
fight。 If I could only have kept him runnin'！ Thet would have been a race！ 。 。
。 But Wildfire got in closer an' closer。 He crowded us。 He bit at the King's
flank an' shoulder an' neck。 Lucy pulled till I yelled she'd throw the hoss
an' kill us both。 Then Wildfire jumped for us。 Runnin' an' strikin' with both
feet at once！ Bostil； thet hoss's hell！ Then he hit us an' down we went。 I had
a bad spill。 But the King's not hurt an' thet's a blessed wonder。〃
〃No race； Van！ It was hard luck。 Take him home；〃 said Bostil。
Van's story of the accident vindicated Bostil's doubts。 A new horse had
appeared on the scene； wild and swift and grand； but Sage King was still
unbeaten in a fair race。 There would come a reckoning； Bostil grimly muttered。
Who owned this Wildfire？
Holley might as well have read his mind。 〃Reckon this feller ridin' up will
take down the prize money；〃 remarked Holley； and he pointed to a man who rode
a huge； shaggy； black horse and was leading Lucy's pony。
〃A…huh！〃 exclaimed Bostil。 〃A strange rider。〃
〃An' here comes Lucy coaxin' the stallion back；〃 added Holley。
〃A wild stallion never clear broke！〃 ejaculated Cordts。
All the men looked and all had some remark of praise for Lucy and her mount。
Bostil gazed with a strange； irresistible attraction。 Never had he expected to
live to see a wild stallion like this one； to say nothing of his daughter
mounted on him； with the record of having put Sage King out of the race！
A thousand pairs of eyes watched Wildfire。 He pranced out there beyond the
crowd of men and horses。 He did not want to come closer。 Yet he did not seem
to fight his rider。 Lucy hung low over his neck； apparently exhausted； and she
was patting him and caressing him。 There were horses and Indians on each side
of the race track； and between these lines Lucy appeared reluctant to come。
Bostil strode down and； waving and yelling for everybody to move back to the
slope； he cleared the way and then stood out in front alone。
〃Ride up； now；〃 he called to Lucy。
It was then Bostil discovered that Lucy did not wear a spur and she had
neither quirt nor whip。 She turned Wildfire and he came prancing on； head and
mane and tail erect。 His action was beautiful； springy； and every few steps；
as Lucy touched him； he jumped with marvelous ease and swiftness。
Bostil became all eyes。 He did not see his daughter as she paraded the winner
before the applauding throng。 And Bostil recorded in his mind that which he
would never forgeta wild stallion； with unbroken spirit； a giant of a horse；
glistening red； with mane like dark…striped； wind…blown flame； all muscle； all
grace； all power； a neck long and slender and arching to the small； savagely
beautiful head； the jaws open； and the thin…skinned； pink…colored nostrils
that proved the Arabian blood； the slanting shoulders and the deep； broad
chest； the powerful legs and knees not too high nor too low； the symmetrical
dark hoofs that rang on the little stonesall these marks so significant of
speed and endurance。 A stallion with a wonderful physical perfection that
matched the savage； ruthless spirit of the desert killer of horses！
Lucy waved her hand； and the strange rider to whom Holley had called attention
strode out of the crowd toward Wildfire。
Bostil's gaze took in the splendid build of this lithe rider； the clean…cut
face； the dark eye。 This fellow had a shiny； coiled lasso in hand。 He advanced
toward Wildfire。 The stallion snorted and plunged。 If ever Bostil raw hate
expressed by a horse he saw it then。 But he seemed to be tractable to the
control of the girl。 Bostil swiftly grasped the strange situation。 Lucy had
won the love of the savage stallion。 That always had been the secret of her
power。 And she had hated Sage King because he alone had somehow taken a
dislike to her。 Horses were as queer as people； thought Bostil。
The rider walked straight up to the trembling Wildfire。 When Wildfire plunged
and reared up and up the rider leaped for the bridle and with an iron arm
pulled the horse down。 Wildfire tried again； almost lifting the rider； but a
stinging cut from the lasso made him c